


the wind whispers

by cuneifire (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cuneifire
Summary: Fate is funny like that.(Prussia is dead and Hungary is lonely enough to make a wish)





	the wind whispers

 

The wind’s howling. The castle’s alight, a single lamp lit by a dying flame of oil. The waves are tame, lapping at her feet. She looks up, slowly, over the vague glinting blue that stretches out in front of her endlessly.

 Hungary is not a sea nation. She built her ships on rivers and for that, standing here, she feels regret. No reason in particular, simply that there was a course of action that she did not take, that could no longer be taken.

The stars stare down at her. Silently, she makes a wish. She’s been told a nation’s wish has more powers than humans. She doesn’t believe it. But opportunities were opportunities.

The cobblestone streets were rife with laughter; lights swirling with the scent of the sea, high bricked architecture, wine glasses clinking. A woman in a red dress spins past her vision, caught up in a dance with a man in a high-class black suit and a dark blue tie. Their expressions strike her as serious, as if they’d been painted by someone intent on mediocrity. Someone who could look at all the colours in life and see on the grey.

Her gaze is trapped on them; fixated on the kaleidoscope of colours that spins before her eyes.

But eventually she has to leave, tear her gaze away. Stepping from the bar, she walks up to an old grocery store, the sign dangling precariously over the entrance, metal with punched in bold letters. _Lebensmittelmarkt,_ it reads.

It was crammed; food on every corner that one could possibly find it, small little oddities where you wouldn’t think they might be. Tilting her gaze up, she found chocolate hidden behind the corner of a shelf, dried roses in the freezer, a small pile of old _thalers_ behind the clear bottle of water she decided to purchase. God, those things were ancient. She wondered how long this shop had been standing, to have that type of money stashed away, useless for all these years.

He’d be fond of it, maybe. Would smile and grin and laugh and say he’s not forgotten, no, never forgotten, (how could you forget him). He was just more memory than person these days, faded to history.

Of course that was true. He was unforgettable, in that type of way so very few people are.

That’s what she’s thinking as she hands the old lady at the counter a handfuls of euros, before taking the water with her. She’d take the _thalers,_ too, but she already had so many remnants of Prussia hanging around her thoughts she’d likely lose her mind with the addition of more.

So the sea speaks to her, instead, a night coloured beach on a starry dusk where no one’s looking. The water lays empty in her hand as she slowly sips is, closing her eyes and listening.

The waves whisper.

The night silence rings.

“Hey, Hungary, what are you doing here?”

She opens her eyes slowly to him; same as always, dark blue uniform and smart grin and red eyes and all. Staring at her, less translucent than her should be.

Somehow, this doesn’t surprise her.

But it does surprise her when he leans forwards and presses a hand to her wrist, over her pulse, and leans closer. It surprises her that he’s warm.

“Hungary,” he says her name like a laugh, and god does she want to join him. She knows it’s impossible to beat death, but you can cheat it; for minutes, hours, seconds- you can try. “I missed you.”

Her eyes are filled with mirth as she replies, but heartache is always impossible to keep from her tone. “I think I missed you more.”

“Impossible.” He says, half a laugh an half a breath- a necessary intake of air that does not apply to him, but he does it anyways, he’s always done things like that- because that’s how he’ always does them, that’s who he is and that’s not something Prussia changes. For the world, for anyone.

It’s an admirable resolve, perhaps, to stay unchanging like that. But time changes all people; they get old or they die.

It’s an image of a cliff face to the eroding seas. _And there’s your answer,_ the world’s telling her. _But here’s what makes life worth living,_ her mind is saying, because he’s right in front of her, not dead but not real. He’s just simply _there,_ like he’d been all her life, so when he’d died it’d felt like the floor of her existence had been ripped out from under her feet.

 _So just take what you can get,_ she thinks, and leans forwards and captures his lips in a kiss.

He’s grinning as he pulls away.

Her eyes hurt from staring at him because it’s like a mirror version of what they could have been.

                “Hey,” He’s saying now, and her eyelashes flutter until he straightens in her vision, red glittering against the light of shining stars and street lights.

“Don’t forget me, alright?” And she can hear his old words, the ones he said when he was alive, too- _I’m afraid of dying, Hungary, what if West forgets who I was- god, what if you forget- could you at least remember that I loved you? Promise me, -promise me you won’t forget._

“I never could.” She affirms as she closes her eyes, hand still clasped firmly in his.

When she blinks her eyes open again, he’s gone.

The stars stare down at her, because they granted her wish; briefly, for no star could ever truly make that.

But still.

She wants to tell the world thank you. She wants to scream at it until her throat goes raw. She wants to see the light. She wants to whisper sweet nothings in his ear like she never had when he’d been alive. She wanted to take a time machine and yell at herself to not waste her time, to not confess her love only when he was on his deathbed.

But she couldn’t take that back. Another blocked off course of action, a path impossible to take. Nations had power, perhaps more than humans, but not that type of it.

Perhaps all they really had was a bigger capacity for heartbreak.


End file.
